


The Commode and the Crystal

by Sossity



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Sex and the City (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Parody, Please Don't Hurt Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sossity/pseuds/Sossity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt Sex and the City/King Arthur: Unclogging a Toilet.  Enter at your own risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Commode and the Crystal

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written for a "Worst Fanfiction Crossover Contest" on a forum I frequent (all in fun, I assure you), for the prompt King Arthur/Sex and the City: Unclogging a Toilet back in 2009. I entered and then promptly forgot about it until I stumbled across the file on my computer earlier today.
> 
> I am so, so sorry.

It was shaping up to be a terrible Saturday. I woke up at six in the morning only to find out that the curry I had eaten the night before had come back to haunt me. I threw back the covers and rushed into the bathroom.  
Four long hours naked on the toilet canceling engagements for the day with my state-of-the-art cell phone later, a sudden reprieve left me feeling almost good again. I finished my business, stood up and flushed my cares away.  
At least, I tried to.  
Instead of going down, the sewage made a funny noise and started coming up. I leaped backward out of the bathroom and shut the door as the evil fluid hit the floor and oozed outward.  
I didn't know much about plumbing, but being a single girl out on her own, I had learned a few things about many subjects. One of the most important lessons I've found is knowing when to call in an expert. I ran for the yellow pages and settled on an entry at random. I whipped out my cell phone and dialed.  
Surprisingly, a human voice answered. "Artie's Plumbing and Heating: Service Fit for a King! Elaine speaking."  
"Hello, my name is Carrie Bradshaw, and I need a plumber's assistance."  
"Is this an emergency?"  
"Yes!" I proceeded to tell her the events of the morning.  
"Damn, I hate it when that happens. I've had to stop eating Mexican food, too. Let me see who's on call...ooh; looks like you're in luck! Artie himself is in your area. I'll page him and he should be out in less than half an hour. Good luck," she finished, and hung up.  
I stared at my phone. Half an hour was still half an eternity. I thought about what I could do in the meantime--for some reason breakfast didn't appeal to me--and realized I was still naked. I rushed to my wardrobe and threw on the first thing I could find, which happened to be a mid-thigh-length spring green sundress which was designed by a very dear friend of mine. I slipped on a pair of sheer tan pantyhose and a pair of open toed sandals. I picked out a small white clutch to accessorize.  
Unfortunately, my makeup was still trapped in the disaster area! I debated whether I should go back in there, and finally decided I would be fine if I only spent a minute in there, especially if I held my breath. I went back to the bathroom, counted to three, rushed in and tried to quickly apply some base, a coat of foundation, a dash of green eye shadow, brown eyeliner, two coats of mascara--I picked up a pair of false eyelashes, but discarded the idea as taking too long--and a quick application of rouge. I compared shades of lipstick against the rest of my makeup at the speed of a race car driver, and then used a lovely shade called Pericardium Pink, along with a daringly offsetting lip liner. That done, I quickly plucked a few stray hairs out of my eyebrows and touched up the rest with an eyebrow pencil, sprayed some lovely Chanel perfume on my neck and wrists and gave a large blast of it down the front of my dress, sprayed a bit more perfume on my comb and then ran it quickly through my hair, brushed my hair, indulged myself a little with a curling iron, and brushed my hair again.  
I was putting on a bit of hairspray when I heard the doorbell ring. I jumped a little, not expecting the man so soon. I put away what I could, and headed out to answer it. Halfway there, I realized my sandals had gotten all mucky in the bathroom. I took them off and hesitated. Should I try to clean them? I didn't really want to, and I didn't have the time. It seemed wasteful to just throw them away, but I didn't get a lot of use out of them anyw--  
The doorbell rang again. I opened a window and threw the offending shoes out, then padded over to the door in my stocking feet.  
I opened the door and quickly shut it again. Standing there was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Warm, intelligent eyes in a strong, chiseled face stared in innocent confusion at my intense reaction. His golden hair flowed down his shoulders as though sunlight had been captured out of the sky and tamed by various beauty products. His powerful biceps flexed in a samba beat against the fabric of his tight coveralls. The man's sensuous mouth opened and out poured the honeyed resonances of an angel come to earth.  
"Hey, I'm Artie. Hear you've got a plumbing problem...you okay, ma'am? Ma'am? Uh, sorry I'm late, but the traffic..." he trailed off as I stepped away from the door.  
"In here," I gestured, trying not to show the way he had affected me. "I had a little, ah, problem with my bathroom facilities."  
I led the way back to the scene of the crime, braced myself and wrenched open the door. Artie, obviously a man of action, stepped in, ready to take command. Suddenly, he let out a high-pitched whimper and lurched backward out the door again. "Jeez, lady, what the hell you been eating? I...I..." he looked me in the adoring eye and sighed. "I'll get my bag." Artie strode heavily out the door and returned several minutes later, braced by his bag of equipment in one hand, a toilet plunger held forcefully in the other and a bandanna tied over the lower half of his face. He took a deep breath, gathered himself, and burst into the bathroom. I followed in his wake.  
Artie was a professional with a capital P. He took one look at the recalcitrant commode and laughed manfully (and a bit hysterically, to my ears). One muscled finger pushed down on the handle, and he went to work with the plunger. I was impressed with how skillfully he moved; his brawny arms pulling to a celestial rhythm only we two could hear. In and out, in and out. I felt a burning sensation in my loins.  
He discarded the plunger with a grunt and took a plumber's snake out of his bag. With great dexterity, he maneuvered his tool into the waiting cavity. I braced myself for another round of primitive exertion, but this time, instead of forcefully straining he took time to gently probe the deepest reaches and mysteries that lay within. My heart pounded and my lungs quickened as he grew closer to that one spot which would trigger the ultimate reaction we both were looking for. He cried out in triumph and I heard myself sing out with him as he gave one last powerful heave and all our troubles jetted away on the wings of the clear fluid that would fill the basin like a cornucopia of joy and then, blessedly, stop at the rim.  
Artie wiped the sweat off his brow with one forearm and turned to me, grinning. "I think that's taken care of, ma'am. I'll just write you out a bill." He left the room and I followed, putting one hand on his arm to halt him.  
"No, I think you'll find there's still something to do," I said.  
He turned to me with a question in his eyes and I put my mouth on his. After a moment of surprise, he returned my embrace with interest. I meshed my body with his and he drew his lips down my neck. I unzipped his coveralls and he lifted me into his arms, carried me into the bedroom and shut the door.  
***  
I woke up hours later tangled in sheets, twilight pouring in at me. I lay basking where I was for a moment before looking around. Artie was sitting at the edge of the bed with his shoulders hunched up as though he was in pain. I reached out to him and he turned around, tears streaming down his face.  
"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly.  
"Nothing's wrong. In fact, everything's very, very right. Tonight was absolutely amazing," he assured me. "So amazing, actually, that you've triggered a memory. Something buried so deep that I'm shocked it was able to resurface."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Let me tell you a story." He took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, many centuries ago, there was a king named Arthur. This king ruled over all Britain in prosperity and relative peace, creating an oasis of light in the very center of the dark ages. For many years he reigned, and all thought his line would continue for a long time to come. However, in time his trusted advisor, a wizard named Merlin, foresaw that his king's rule would end in betrayal and destruction. Being a good wizard, he naturally didn't want to see this happen, so he tried every way he could think of to prevent it. He couldn't. He could only alleviate the effects.  
"He found a large, perfectly round crystal one day, sitting on the palace steps, although no one could tell him how it got there. He used it as a focus for his spell, a spell that would hold Arthur and his knights' memories through reincarnation after reincarnation. He still needed a trigger for his spell, though. That's where you come in." He smiled at me.  
I felt strange thoughts swirling in my head, thoughts that weren't my own, yet felt so familiar it almost hurt. I put my confusion out of my mind as he continued.  
"Now, Arthur had a strong, beautiful wife called Queen Guinevere. Guinevere wasn't always faithful," he said, and touched my hair, "but she was loved deeply by the king no matter how she strayed, even if the people around him forced him into taking measures against her."  
Now there were tears on my face, although I couldn't imagine why. Something inside me made me quietly add, "I'd like to think she cared about him too, even if she needed her freedom once and a while."  
Arthur froze, and then continued. "Arthur's transcendent love for this maiden was just what Merlin needed. That--plus a little bit of his own venom against what happened, I'm afraid--became the trigger, and the prophecy.  
"It's been a legend in my family for generations. The reincarnated Arthur would remember everything when a certain set of circumstances came to pass." He bent over and reached in the pocket of his clothing. "Specifically, if Arthur, the crystal," and here he held it out to show me, "and his queen came together in a moment of union, he would regain everything for his second reign. Do you remember now, Guin?"  
I did.  
His knights would soon come, I knew. They would feel the call of the crystal and find my apartment. I moved to get dressed and Arthur did the same. He went for his coveralls, but I motioned him to the closet. He winced when he saw the large collection of men's clothes in various sizes friends had left behind and which I kept for special occasions like this.  
By the time I had finished dressing and reapplying my makeup, Arthur was ready. I had expected him to choose something stylish, yet sober to wear as befitting the occasion, but I was surprised and a little disappointed to find he had outfitted himself in an old pair of jeans and a novelty t-shirt he had scavenged out. He has been a plumber for most of this life, I reminded myself as I went to answer the doorbell.  
Standing in the doorway was an assortment of gorgeous men that impressed even me and made me grin in anticipation. I let them in.  
There was a short celebration as everyone reintroduced themselves and drank my best champagne. No one looked the same as back in the day, of course, since we were all different people in different bodies. Merlin was now a handsome young man; Tristan was now a woman. Lancelot, who was still darkly handsome, introduced me to his scowling wife Elaine and showed me pictures of their seven children.  
This continued until Arthur was convinced to go over the whole story of what happened. He introduced me and we all trooped back to the bathroom that started it all. I heard someone whisper "She looks like a horse!" behind me, but I magnanimously ignored it like the queen that I was.  
Artie started in on his story. At one point, he held up his plunger to show that it had magically transformed into his sword Excalibur to the amazement of all.  
Gesturing with his crystal at the toilet, he ended with, "And this is the john that started it all, folks!" He flourished his hand at it. Suddenly, the crystal slipped out of his grasp and as we watched, stunned into silence, flew in a graceful arc through the air and straight down into the toilet bowl.  
We all stood there for a moment, then gathered around and stared. It looked like it was very tightly wedged in there.  
"Well, shit."


End file.
